Lex's event was well over the top, but it would have been an absolute insult if I'd expected anything less. More was more, and in Lex's opinion, even more was even more. The entirety of the Metropolis Museum had been rented out as the venue for Lex Corp's annual charity event and anyone who was anyone had received an invite. Surely the price of hosting such an event could have made for a sizeable donation to whichever organization Lex Corp had chosen this year, but Lex was all about the absurdity of it all. Spend money to get people to spend money. It wasn't exactly a philosophy I agreed with, but I would have been a dirty liar if I said his motto hadn't influenced how prestigious I'd made Health Bridge's facilities.
Walking inside, it was unsurprising to spot a famous face or two. Although it was a charity event, Lex wasn't afraid to showcase just how well-connected he was with local influencers, fellow billionaire CEOs, and philanthropists. Fair enough. After all, they were the ones who were capable of dropping thousands of dollars on art pieces they didn't understand to make up for the fact their carbon footprint was the reason it only snowed two days out of the entire year. But who was I to judge? I was wearing Dior.
I was embarrassed to say I kind of felt like a celebrity myself. Having been Lex's good friend and plus-one for many years, I oftentimes felt as though I had no real purpose at events like these. Despite Lex's kindness, it was easy to feel isolated around the one percent. But now with this published interview and my five seconds of fame, I felt like my presence served more of a purpose than just enjoying the refreshments. Sure, it might have been a little narcissistic of me to be thinking such things at a charity event, but the publishment of my interview with the Daily Planet felt like a massive achievement and huge step forward for Health Bridge. I'd been receiving calls and emails about follow-ups and further comments about the current justice and healthcare system, not to mention a growing interest in Health Bridge's facilities. We'd had at least a dozen calls for tours since the interview, more than we'd had in months.
Upon entry, I stopped in front of a mirror and fixed my dress. Dior may not have been the most eco-friendly pick for tonight's occasion of climate-change awareness, but they sure as hell could put together one heck of a dress. I looked and I felt good, and I had a really great feeling about tonight.
Scanning the room, I found Lex immersed in a group of black-suited men, one of whom I recognized to be the CEO of Space X. Was it dumb of me to hope someone like Elon Musk might feel pity and invest in my recovery center? Probably. If only I'd decided to open Health Bridge in space.
I considered joining Lex and his conversation, but I'd made that mistake before - I would be walking in on a pissing contest about jet size or whatever massive success they'd managed to achieve since last year, and I was not ashamed to say my success did not compare. Lex noticed me staring and shot me an apologetic look, before reaching into his coat pocket and retrieving his phone. He typed out a message as the men around him continued speaking to him and my phone buzzed shortly after.
Lex: Give me 5. I'm considering telling Musk that I'm starting a competing company called Space LeX.
I shook my head at him with a smile and watched him struggle to hold back one of his own. That almost made me want to join in on the conversation, but something caught my eye instead - a distant painting hung between two pillars. Whoever put it there did not consider the poor placement or the dim lighting that concealed it from the other spectators. Moving towards it, I realized it wasn't anything special compared to the extravagance of some of the other pieces, but it was reminiscent of Monet's Water Lilies, my favorite piece of art.
Coming to stand before it, I took in the details and genuinely considered placing a bid for it. I didn't think my offer would win, but if no one else was paying attention to it then I might just stand a chance.
"I own something similar." A deep voice announced from beside me, one laced with a certain kind of cockiness you could only expect from a crowd like this. I hadn't realized when he'd come and stood next to me, but it only took one quick glance to recognize that it was none other than Gotham's favorite billionaire playboy. He was looking at the painting intently, his posture relaxed with his hands tucked away into the pockets of his coat. I focused my attention back on the painting.
"Bruce Wayne," I said, trying my best not to seem the least bit interested. Sue me for being a bitch, but he already had way too many women fawning after him for me to give him the satisfaction of being even remotely interested in this conversation. I knew his type all too well. If I gave him an opening, he would consider it a victory, brush me off, and move on to the next unsuspecting girl. Though I had to admit, he was pretty cute. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I recognize a new face," he shrugged, and out of my peripheral, watched him turn his head and look down at me. Now, at 5'7, I was not a short girl by any means, but he sure as hell made me feel like one standing next to him, even in heels.
Okay, Bruce Wayne, fine - you get a point.
Now that I had his attention, I decided to give him mine. Turning my head to meet his eyes, I said, "I've been coming to these things for years now, but nice try." I wanted to see his cool boy persona falter, but instead, watched his lip curl into a smirk.
"Well, could you blame me for making a pass?" he said and I felt a sense of satisfaction run through me. God damn it.
"Nope," I replied, but kept my face neutral, refusing to give him an opening as I turned my attention back on the painting. Once more through my peripheral, I watched him look at me for a moment too long before he did the same.
"If I'm being honest, I recognized you from the news," he said, changing his approach. I hoped Gotham had a better name for me than Idiot Girl, but I knew it had stuck more than anything else the media had come up with. Creativity seemed to be something they lacked. "You brought up some good points in your interview."
I looked at him - he had my attention now. "You read my interview?" My change in tone must have been enough of an opening because he turned to me with a smile.
"I did," he answered, the cockiness in his tone back with a vengeance. I should have left when I had the upper hand, but now, the ball was in his court. "Not sure I agreed with everything." I wanted to ask him for specifics, but I knew that was exactly what he was hoping for. He was good at his game, but I already knew his plays.
So, looking him up and down, I answered, "I suppose you wouldn't." I wanted to give myself a pat on the back for that one. I had managed to take back the upper hand and all I had to do was take my leave, but he saw it coming, and he wasn't done with me yet.
"Ouch," he said, his smile growing. "What exactly makes you say that?" He had his body turned to me now, giving me his complete and undivided attention. I refused to do the same - he was only talking to me because I had given him something to chase.
I raised a perfectly done brow. Did he really want me to say?
Maybe he did.
"Bruce Wayne," I made his name sound like molten chocolate dripping slowly on a hot, summer day. His complete and undivided attention only heightened as he looked at me to go on. A slow smirk pulled at my lips, drawing his gaze down to them for a flicker of a moment. "Is enough of an answer."
"Clara," Lex called, striding his way past the crowd to me and Bruce, whose attentions he had stolen. Perfect timing, Lex.
"Lex," I greeted him with a warm smile and a hug, the polar opposite of what I was putting down for Bruce Wayne. Releasing me from our embrace, Lex looked between Gotham's finest bachelor and me, his eyes speculative but he didn't need to worry - there was nothing going on here.
"I see you've had the misfortune of meeting Bruce Wayne," he said. His intonation implied he was joking, but his eyes said that he wasn't. Lex wasn't exactly a fan of most people, so I didn't take his dislike as anything stemming from something personal.
"Now, now, Lex, I've been nothing but respectful," Bruce said, a cocky smile gracing his godly features as he jokingly raised his hands in surrender. God definitely played favorites, because he took his sweet damn time with Bruce Wayne. "I didn't realize you two were..." he looked between us.
"We're not," I said, unfazed by the assumption. It wasn't the first time someone had mistaken our friendship for something more. It seemed to be a common mistake when a man and woman were seen out alone having a good time. "Lex is a good friend."
"Then maybe I shouldn't have been as respectful," Bruce said, his eyes dancing with amusement as our gazes interlocked. Why, this smug son of a-
"I'm surprised you could even make it," Lex interjected, clearly not loving the way Bruce was looking at me. Maybe I shouldn't have given him the chase, because men like him who could have the world, were animals for things they couldn't have. But was it bad that it excited me? I needed therapy asap. "Last I heard you were out on some boat with the entire Russian Ballet."
"The entire Russian ballet?" I blurted. I couldn't help but sound absolutely appalled, but whatever! What could he have been doing with all of them? Seriously. He couldn't possibly have that much stamina. Could he? Bruce let out an awkward, yet very guilty laugh. Oh God, could he?
"See you around, Wayne," Lex placed a hand on the small of my back, considering the conversation finished. Yeah, and fair enough. What was I supposed to say to that? Congratulations, hope you had fun fucking your way through the first, second, third, and fourth act of Swan Lake?
To my surprise, as I was being led away, Bruce said, "It was nice meeting you, Clara." It wasn't exactly his words that were of surprise to me, but the manner in which he said them. No hint of cockiness that I'd been hearing since the start of our conversation, but true, genuine kindness.
"Likewise," I said, unsure of what else to say, before turning my attention to wherever Lex was taking me. He obviously didn't have a destination in mind because we stopped walking as soon as we were out of earshot. I supposed he wanted Bruce to see that - to have him know he just wanted to get me away from him.
"Stay away from him, Clara," Lex said. "His literal mission in life is to fuck anything that breathes in his direction." His eyes widened for a moment as he realized what he'd said and the opportunity he'd presented for me before he released a pained breath, readying himself for my joke that he saw coming from a mile away.
"Speaking from experience?" I smirked.
"Ha. Ha," he said dryly, taking a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter. "But seriously," he handed one to me and I took it with an appreciative smile. "He's not a good person and you deserve better. Or at least someone who cares about people as much as you do."
"Hmm," I considered, taking a sip from my glass. "You're a good person. Want to come home with me tonight?"
Lex shook his head, smirking. "Can't. I've been working on that German blonde by the fountain since the start of the evening. I think she and her friends might consider joining me at my place after this." I peeked over his shoulder and found a tall, beautiful, blonde woman standing amongst a group of friends who were just as tall and beautiful as her.
"Cheers to that," I clinked glasses with Lex.
"Since we're cheersing, congratulations on your interview with the Daily Planet," he said earning a smile from me. "I see a bright future for Health Bridge, and remember, if you need any help at all-"
"Stop," I whined, cutting him short. I knew what he was about to offer, because he'd offered it a hundred times over - since Health Bridge was just an idea. It was sweet of him to want to take the risk, it really was, but using Lex's money and contacts felt like cheating. I wanted to do this on my own. I wanted my success to be my own. Sure, I was using my father's drug money to fund a lot of it, but it felt right to use money made from drugs to help clean up the streets so that people could get off drugs.
"The offer's always on the table," he shrugged, sipping from his champagne. "Now, I know you were too upset to talk about it a couple of days ago, but did you happen to see what Superman looked like?"
I scrunched my nose at him. "Your obsession with Superman is seriously weird." For as long as I'd known Lex, he'd always had this weird fascination with the Man of Steel. Not only with his powers, but with his identity, his origin, everything. He wanted to know everything, and there was part of me that believed that maybe Lex was just a little bit envious. He was always an overachiever, a big dreamer, and maybe he didn't want his success limited to that of a human being. He was surely obsessed. And maybe it was because he couldn't fathom having that much power, or maybe it was because he could. What I'd said about Bruce Wayne also reigned true for Lex - men who could have the world were animals for things they could not have, and Lex... well, he couldn't have Superman's powers.
His obsession didn't really bother me, though. Everyone had weird quirks. Our talk of Superman had even led us to have some of the most interesting conversations about human existence and everything else that could be out there in the infinite cosmos. Honestly, the only time his obsession had affected me was when I'd hooked him up with my friend and he'd spent the entire date talking about his favorite superhero. I still hadn't let him live that night down.
"Did you get a look at his face?" he asked again.
"I was a little too busy trying not to have a panic attack," I answered. He shook his head and downed the rest of his champagne in one fluid motion. "Oh, c'mon. You know I would tell you if I saw anything worth noting. Now tell me you love me and let's go get some food."
"Love you," he grumbled.
~~~
Time escaped me because before I knew it, the night had come to an end and I was more than ready to go home. As beautiful as this dress was, the thought of changing into a pair of comfy pajamas and some fuzzy socks nearly had me salivating. Not to mention the early morning and busy day I had scheduled for tomorrow. Press had been great for Health Bridge and my work life, but not so much for my valued spare time. My Nespresso was going to be put through hell this coming week.
Stepping outside, I found a crowd of angry people swarming around the valet desk, which was exactly where I needed to go to get my car. As a man stormed off from the group and headed in my direction, I stopped him for answers.
"What's going on over there?" I asked him. He let out an annoyed breath of hot air that turned to smoke in the cold night. If it weren't for the champagne I'd had inside, I might have been shivering like some of the others standing here with me.
"The garage door is malfunctioning. They can't get our cars out until the repairman arrives," he said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a case of cigarettes. I refused him as soon as he offered me one. "You'd think they'd have quicker service here."
Well, shit. Lex had already left a while ago, so I couldn't ask him for a ride. I wouldn't want to make him come back for me either, not after seeing how hard he had to work to get that entire group of women to go home with him. Ironic, considering he had the audacity to judge Bruce Wayne for doing something similar.
Pulling my phone out, I considered calling a cab, when I heard a car horn honk in front of me. Looking up, I found none other than Bruce Wayne flashing me a smile from inside an equally flashy Mercedes.
"Need a ride?" he said.
Well fuck me sideways, this was not happening.
I held my phone up, "Thanks but I'm calling a cab."
"Oh, c'mon," he said. "I have a long ride back to Gotham. I'd appreciate the company for some of it."
"How do you have your car?"
He shrugged, "Never know when you'll need to make a quick getaway."
I considered it for a moment. I knew the smart thing would have been to decline him and just go forth with my plan of calling a cab. That was the safe option. That was the option that would have undoubtedly resulted in a night of quiet peace. But there was part of me that liked something about the idea of having Gotham's notorious playboy driving me home. I knew Lex had warned me to stay away, that Bruce Wayne only wanted to fuck me, but I had zero intention of sleeping with him tonight, so what harm could come from accepting a ride? It's not like he was Patrick Bateman.
Without giving him an answer, I walked to the car door and pulled it open. It was impossible not to notice his lip curling into a smirk as I took a seat and fastened my seatbelt. Honestly, the car was a pretty tasteful choice all things considered. And maybe I was just being judgemental or trying to find more reasons not to like him, but I was actually surprised he didn't have classical music playing. He seemed like the type to listen to it just so he could tell people he listened to it.
As he started driving, I sincerely hoped he wasn't getting the wrong impression about what my intentions were. I just needed a ride home - anything else was out of the question. To ensure he knew that, I said, "I live on West and Third."
"Nice place," he answered, pressing his foot down against the petal. The car accelerated forward, pushing my back against the seat as we went speeding down the empty street. He was driving like he wanted to impress me with his car, but I wasn't going to give him a reaction. If he asked, I'd been in faster cars. And if he wanted to impress me, he was going to have to do better than this.
"You know it?" I looked at him - one hand over the wheel, his other elbow resting comfortably over the middle console. His eyes were focused on the road, but something told me he was watching me through his peripheral just as I'd been in front of the painting. I looked away, but why the hell did he have to look so good driving?
"I own the building," he gave a casual shrug.
Ooooof course he did.
"So you invest in properties outside of Gotham," I nearly cringed as the words left my lips. It was a dumb thing of me to say. Of course he did. He probably had properties all over the world - vacation homes, second homes, third homes, homes he probably didn't even know about.
"Most of the good real estate in Gotham is ancestral," he replied. "Metropolis has more to offer right now. Speaking of," he glanced at me, drawing my attention back to him, "I ran the numbers on Health Bridge."
"Excuse me?" He did what?
"You have something promising going on there. I think with the right marketing team and some better investors, your business could be booming within the year," he spoke so casually, as if the words coming from his lips were of a mundane topic like the weather, as if he hadn't looked into my business before approaching me at the event. Is that what this was really about? Had he spoken to me because he wanted to invest in my business? God, had I really read so far into our conversation that I'd thought he was flirting?
"Are you offering me a business proposal?" I asked, hoping he could offer me some clarity before I decided he just wanted to fuck me.
"No," he took his eyes off the road so that he could throw me a smirk, "We'd probably have to discuss something as serious as that over dinner."
Okay, he was definitely still flirting. And as excited as I was to have someone like Bruce Wayne showing interest in my business, I wasn't going to make it easy for him.
"I thought you didn't agree with what I had to say in my interview," I said.
"Not with everything," he replied. "Metropolis isn't the whole reason there isn't a better system implemented to help those in Gotham find help over here. I could throw all my money into financing and building more healthcare facilities, but that isn't the issue anymore. Gotham wants to keep the desperate within the city because it's exactly those who can't find help elsewhere that are susceptible to gangs and violence. They need helpless people joining their ranks because no one else will."
"What do you think should be done?"
"I think a conversation needs to be had with the mayor."
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "I would have taken you as a radical, vigilante supporter. What are your thoughts on Gotham's favorite bird?"
Bruce chuckled. "I think he's doing the best that he can with the identity and resources that he has."
"I agree," I admitted. "It's not like he can walk into a courtroom and offer reasonable solutions to the city's problems. The identity he's created for himself is too violent, and half of his appeal is the fact that most criminals are scared of him. If he started acting like a politician, now that would be a sight to see."
"So you don't think he's a bad man."
"Not at all," I said. "But I think there's a fine line between vigilante and villain - not with Batman's perception of himself, but with Gotham's perception of him. Fear can only do so much good, but at the end of the day, people need someone they can trust."
"Hmm," Bruce said, growing a bit quiet. I'd noticed he'd slowed down a bit, and part of me believed it was because he did not want this conversation to end now that we were nearing my home. "It's also completely possible he's just a nutjob who enjoys hurting people for fun." The comment came out of nowhere, and I had to wonder if he just couldn't stand the silence that he had to force a joke.
"I don't think you believe that," I said, but instead of replying, he just shot me a smile and the car sped up. Alright, I guessed he didn't want to continue the conversation.
We soon arrived in front of my building, and Bruce stopped the car along the sidewalk. Thanking him for the ride, I gathered my belongings and stepped outside. But before I could shut the door, he said, "When are you in Gotham next?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "For the business proposal," he clarified, smirking.
"I'm meeting with a friend the day after tomorrow," I said.
"I'll clear my schedule."
Screw Bruce Wayne for giving me butterflies.
"I'll see you then," I shut the car door. "Goodnight." I turned my back to him and took the first step towards my building.
"Clara," he said, making me turn to him again. "I'm sorry about Walter Whitmore. He didn't deserve what happened to him and neither did you." If it weren't for his tone and the look of pain in his eyes, I might have actually been able to form a response in time, but I found myself staring at my own reflection as he rolled up the passenger window and drove away, back towards Gotham City.